


Chances

by author_abz



Category: iCarly
Genre: F/M, Swearing, political views
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-07
Updated: 2009-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/author_abz/pseuds/author_abz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam needs to tell one person about the decision she's made, but it may just backfire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chances

**Author's Note:**

> I stretched the truth a bit to make the story fit, as Sam is not black, latino, or any other kind of ethnicity not white. Otherwise - all facts are, well - factual. Flat out flames will be ignored and deleted. My opinion - my story. I simply wish to express it and hopefully broaden some minds.

Samantha Puckett can keep a secret. Sam is not stupid. Sam is informed. Sam is a big girl, and does not need anyone to hold her hand. Sam’s mind is made up. Still, Sam needs to tell just one person what she is going to do.

Spencer, it turns out, is not the person to tell.

Sam expects the shock. She expects him to put up some kind of objection, one to make sure she is not acting spontaneously and that this is what she wants. She does not expect complete refusal, or the yelling, or this argument.

“Don’t do this, Sam.”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission, Spencer!”

“Don’t do this.” Spencer switches back to an imploring look, and Sam believes that she’s never seen anything so condescending in her life, especially as he adds, “You’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”

Sam throws her arms up in exasperation, “No! I’m not! I can’t have this baby. I don’t want to have this baby! It’s not up to you whether or not I can have an abortion.”

“But there are so many other options! I don’t think you’ve seriously thought this through, Sam!” He appears sincere, but they’ve already been yelling for ten minutes and she doesn’t care anymore. One thing Sam hates is being treated like a child, especially a stupid child that has absolutely no grasp on reality.

“No there aren’t! I’ve thought about it and I know what I’m talking about.” Sam is yelling much louder than Spencer is, but she is irritated and has no patience for his attitude.

“There aren’t any options, Sam? Well for one thing you could have this baby. Or you could have it and give it up for adoption, or hell – keep it.”

Sam glares, “You think it’s that easy? Oh, I’m just going to give it to some person who’s been dying for a baby. Jesus, don’t you know anything?”

“And what is that supposed to mean? I’m not stupid, Sam.”

“You live in your own little world, Spencer…” she grits her teeth and goes on quieter, “People don’t want to adopt stupid kids, or kids who are going to have criminal records, they don’t want kids like me. They won’t adopt my kid – and the world does not need another kid without a home.”

“What? Sam, are you crazy? There are thousands of people who want kids!”

“Yeah, perfect little white babies that they should be able to have. They don’t want white trash kids.”

“Sam…”

“No, Spencer. You don’t get it. My mom is the only reason I know my whole family. She may be stupid, and insane, but she makes sure that there is always somebody there for us. And it’s usually at our house. Because their parents are in jail, or remembered that they didn’t actually want the kid in the first place. But then they couldn’t give them up.”

“Sam – ”

“But my mom couldn’t help everybody – we’ve got some kids who went to foster care. Nobody wants to adopt them.”

“You are not your family, Sam. Think about it – you have more than they do, you have us.”

She crosses her arms in defiance, setting her jaw, “I know I have you guys. If I didn’t have you guys I wouldn’t eat sometimes. But not all the time. I’m not going to put that on you guys. I don’t want your charity for this. It’s too much.”

Spencer stares her down for a second, disbelief splashed across his face. “Don’t do it, Sam. You never know, it could be just like you – and you’re amazing. Don’t take away that chance.”

Her eyes harden as she looks Spencer in the eye, “If I let this ‘chance,’” she air-quotes, “happen – then I won’t have a chance. It doesn’t matter how you look at it – it’s my life. It’s nine months of MY LIFE!” she shouts, turning to leave up the stairs.

Spencer calls out to her, making her stop on the stairs, “What if it’s not charity, huh? What if right now, all I want, more than anything – is to take care of that baby? Do you know what I would give to have that kind of opportunity? The one you’re just gonna throw away? Yeah, it’s your life, but you’re not the only person in it that matters.” He turns back to the living room as a whole, shaking his head and plopping down on the couch.

Sam turns back to look at him a second to make sure he’s not going to add anything else before crashing her way up the stairs to the iCarly studio, slamming the door. She drops down onto a bean bag and she can feel the door frame still shaking, and she can hear Spencer’s muffled scream from two floors down.

\---

Carly walks in a few hours later, and Sam hasn’t moved from the bean bag. She has her feet up on a chair and her head is resting on the floor, clutching one of their squishy pillows to her chest. “Hey,” Carly says, “I’m not really surprised – but you’re here early.”

Sam glances up at Carly briefly, “Tell your brother I hate him.”

“Huh, and I thought Spencer was kidding.” She waits for Sam to respond, but she just keeps glaring at the ceiling, so Carly goes on. “I can’t really see you guys fighting. What was it even about?”

Sam appears to grit her teeth, “Just tell your brother I hate him.”

Carly seems surprised, but doesn’t try to question her further. Instead, she messes with a few things that they need set up for iCarly practice in about an hour and leaves Sam to stew.

Sam isn’t especially animated all through practice, as though she simply doesn’t have the energy to fake it, but they make it through without a major incident. Afterwards, Carly and Freddie start talking animatedly, sitting on the hood of the car, and Sam leaves the studio without their notice. She’s still angry, and goes down to the living room, where she knows Spencer is working on a sculpture someone is picking up tomorrow morning.

Once Sam makes it down the stairs and spots Spencer, her urge to yell dissipates, but anger still bubbles inside her. She walks slowly over to him, waiting until she knows he can feel her there behind him. He stiffens for a second and she tells him, “You could adopt your own kid, Spencer. Or be a foster parent.”

He turns to her, keeping his voice level and his eyes downcast, “A single guy who’s a freelance artist? I don’t think so.”

“It’s better than nothing,” she keeps her own voice calm, boring her eyes into the side of his head, trying to make him look up at her.

He doesn’t say anything, looking at a spot on the ground between them, and Sam’s dissipating anger reforms instantly. “I hate you, you know.” Spencer doesn’t say anything, but looks up at her innocently. She continues, “And it’s your fault I’ve been up there thinking about it for the past four hours.” Spencer’s face perks up a little bit at this, but Sam doesn’t notice, “I shouldn’t be thinking anymore, Spencer. I should be doing – and it’s YOUR FAULT I’m not!”

He grins at her, “So you’re not going to –”

She advances on him, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do – thanks to you.” Sam’s arms are crossed and she looks up to stare him down, but his smile makes her falter once more. His eyes are shining, in triumph, happiness, hope, joy, and possibly something Sam can’t identify, but it all makes her uneasy, breaking up her anger while simultaneously spurring it on. She whispers unconsciously to him, “If I knew for sure… you, you could do it. Not me. But you…”

Spencer steps forward until he’s right in front of her, “I’ll be here.” She shakes her head, eyes closed. “Sam, I can do this, I can take it on, and it will be the best thing that you ever did,” she shakes her head again rhythmically, “the best thing you ever did for me.”

Sam can’t look at him, “God, I hate you!” She storms away, dropping down onto a chair in front of the TV, turning on an episode of Girly Cow, and turning the volume up ten times louder than normal. Spencer smiles; something changed between them. He doesn’t know what, but he knows it’s something big, and for the better.


End file.
